


Beth's Gift

by amaruuk



Category: Moonlight (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:08:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22390777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amaruuk/pseuds/amaruuk
Summary: All things must end. Beth has died. She had secrets. Can Mick bear to uncover them?Josef sighed and gave Mick a long, level look. Then he shifted on the heels of his smart and very expensive shoes and went to a small cabinet, part, Mick saw, of his elaborate drinks cupboard. A wave of chilled air informed him that it was some sort of refrigeration unit. Josef, head slightly bent and regarding Mick from under his brows, turned back toward him, holding an ornately carved casket, the size of a large shoe box. Mick's nostrils flared. There was something, the scent of which—so minute, almost imagined—he should not have been able to register. "Josef!" he exclaimed in a strained whisper.His friend balanced the small chest on his spread left hand and raised the lid with his right. Inside, a container made of cut crystal lay upon a bed of midnight blue velvet. "Don't hit me until after you've learned everything."
Relationships: Josef Kostan | Josef Konstantin/Mick St. John, Mick St. John/Beth Turner
Comments: 6
Kudos: 19





	Beth's Gift

He stood staring down at the flayed lawn, the artfully composed flowers, the headstone cut from polished granite. Her name was etched into the hard surface, and beneath the dates of her birth and death, was written, My Beth. Someone had placed a jack-o-lantern with a lit candle at its base: Beth had clung to life until the autumn; in another week, it would be All Hallows'. She would have liked that.

Mick didn't feel the dewy cold or the breeze that stirred his hair, didn't see the stars shining fuzzily overhead, their pure light diffused by smog and humidity. He hadn't noticed when the others had left, those of his kind who had known her; who, unageing, had watched her age, and in their way had loved and now mourned her.

"Come on, Mick," Josef said, coming to stand beside him.

Mick raised his head. He had thought himself alone. "You go."

"Uh uh." Josef fell silent.

After a moment, Mick said with a ghostly smile, "You never really approved."

"Never made sense to me."

"My living with a human?"

Josef tilted his head to one side. "Your marrying her, forsaking all others. All that." His pained expression said more.

"And you didn't think I could do it."

Josef snorted. "I could never understand why you would want to."

"Because..."

"Yes, I know. You loved her. Even when she got old. Didn't you miss—?"

"It wasn't about the sex, Josef," Mick said. "Not just about it, anyway. Said that to you years ago." He turned his eyes toward the sky. "About six months ago, after she got really sick, she suggested that I should...you know."

Josef's brows climbed upward. "Only then?"

Mick chuckled. "Prior to that I was getting all that I could handle."

With a theatrical wince, Josef groaned. "Mick. Mick, my man. You're going to cause psychic trauma. I loved Beth. She was..." His grimace deepened. "She was sweet. And, you know, nice—but she was old. All wrinkles. Pudgy, even."

Mick swallowed hard, and when he spoke, his voice was rough. "She was beautiful."

His grief, like a gathering undertow, brought Josef closer. "Mick."

Mick mopped his eyes brusquely with the backs of his hands, and then let his arms fall limp. "I'm all right."

Josef gripped Mick's shoulder. "Yeah. Only you," he said, with affectionate chiding. "Not even mortal men can remain faithful for forty years."

The corners of Mick's mouth twitched. "When she agreed to marry me, I made a promise."

"She'd've gotten over it."

"To myself." He tucked his chin into his chest, as if it suddenly hurt to breathe. "She didn't want to be turned. And I didn't want to do that to her. But I wanted to be with her, more than anything. For however long she could give me."

Josef rolled his eyes. "Mr. Patience."

"I'm pretty profound at patience," Mick agreed. "And to do it for her, it was easy. Forty years is no time at all." After a moment he added in a remote whisper, "And it will never happen again." He took a deep breath, and reached up and squeezed Josef's fingers. His mouth set in resignation, he said, "Go home, Josef. The sun will be up soon."

Josef shook his head. "I'm good."

* * * 

Much had changed in forty years, but the mountains west of Colorado Springs stood much as they had through the millennia. The foothills had not fared so well, glittering in the pre-dawn darkness with the lights of thousands of expensive homes, the scarring of decades-long quarrying, the stands of ravaged pines where fire had visited.

Mick stood in front of the huge, westward-facing, floor-to-ceiling window in Josef's executive suite. Before him, Pike's Peak and the Garden of the Gods lay commandingly magnificent beneath thick mantles of snow, brightly lit by the waxing moon. The first rays of morning would strike soon and light fire on their peaks, and while Mick would gladly watch the transformation of night to day, in truth, he was here seeking asylum from the noise and strenuous energy of Josef's latest "launch" party. Finding the most luxuriously appointed room—and the only one off limits to his guests (to which Mick, by virtue of his electronic fob, had been admitted without hesitation)—Mick had had no doubt that it belonged to Josef. And so he had hidden in the shadows, sipping his glass of blood-spiked ancient whisky, while the world outside had continued its slow but steady rotation, turning its face toward the constellations of spring and dawn.

"Of course," Josef said from the doorway, and sighed. "You're here. Alone. Should've been the first place I looked, when you disappeared over an hour ago."

Mick glanced round, a small smile ready for his friend. "Sounds like you still have guests."

"Just the cleaning crew. They'll be gone in a few minutes."

Mick gestured toward the window with an approving nod. "Nice."

"Isn't it just? And what about all this?" Josef waved a hand at the room and by implication all that was in it and the building around them.

"Nice," Mick repeated.

"All modeled on the latest in conservation," Josef said with proprietary satisfaction. "Solar and wind power, an energy collection system that serves not only this campus but the denizens of Kissing Camels, Pleasant Valley, and most of Manitou Springs. It's a flagship."

"I'll take two," Mick said gamely.

"You, my friend, could not afford one."

Mick raised his glass. "Thanks for inviting me, anyway."

"Needed to get you out of town," Josef said.

"You can stop right there," Mick said evenly.

"You're brooding, Mick. Was hoping a change of scenery might help."

Mick opened his mouth, started to answer, then closed it again, and held his peace. "I'm fine. You ought to know that by now. I tell you at least once a day."

Josef came up alongside him, ostensibly admiring the view. His firm had taken over the original facility that had stood on the exclusive mesa and, making use of all the latest technology, turned it into another jewel in the Kostan Industries crown. "Yes, you do tell me. Why don't I believe you?"

Mick looked down into his almost empty glass. "Since when did you turn into a mother hen?"

"Somebody has to look after you." Josef made a show of teeth that had little to do with amusement. "If I asked you what you're thinking about while you're staring at that incredible vista, what would you tell me? Beth. So, what about this particular view reminds you of her?"

The answer was there even before Josef asked. "How much she would have enjoyed seeing it—like this. We vacationed here a few years back. But it was summer then. Not long after she found out...."

"Stop it."

Unfazed by Josef's tone, Mick said, "You asked."

Josef exhaled sharply, wordlessly expressing his frustration. "So let's talk about Beth then. A little reminisce."

Suspicion edged Mick's features as he regarded Josef sidelong. "Why? You keep telling me that I spend too much time thinking about her. You're going to encourage me now?"

"Just for a bit," Josef promised.

"You're wasting your time, you know," Mick warned him good-naturedly. He considered putting Josef's mind at ease. Despite what he thought, Mick was not dwelling in the past. It was true that he still dropped in occasionally, because that was where Beth lived, and there she was healthy and happy, and forever his. But the truly anguished days were behind him: he was adjusting; he was healing.

"Humor me."

"All right. Consider yourself humored." He knocked back the remains of his drink and set the glass on a nearby table.

Hands thrust in his pockets, Josef began to move about the room. "Tell me something about her you've never told me before."

"Hm...." There was very little that Josef did not already know. He had become Mick's confidante soon after Coraline had introduced them. Though they were very different in disposition and purpose, trust had formed almost immediately, and through the years confidences had flowed back and forth between them, as constant as the tides.

"Mick?"

He flicked a remonstrative look Josef's way. "I'm thinking." And then, biting his lower lip, he smiled. "There was the first time I suggested that she take extra tampons to work with her." Her face had been a picture: he could see her clearly, her mouth wide open, her eyes shocked. "She didn't know whether to be grateful or outraged. Finally decided it was one of the novel ways I could be useful."

Josef's eyes twinkled. "And did she ever let you...?"

Remembering Beth's reaction—a deeply personal and intimate memory—Mick hesitated before slowly inclining his head.

"She was okay with that?" Josef asked.

"It was...mutually beneficial."

Josef let out a low hoot of laughter. "You'd be blushing if you could. You know that, don't you?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"Well, anyway," Josef grinned seraphically, _"yum."_

"All right. Maybe that was a little too personal. She'd kill me if she knew I'd told you."

"Don't worry. Your secret's safe with me." Josef turned suddenly on his heel and resumed his pacing. Mick had a quick glimpse of his set features, and his suspicion deepened. "My turn. I bet that you never knew that she once had me end a photographer because of you."

"End? You mean, as in—?"

"As in hire assassins to take him out."

"I— Really?"

Mick's shocked tone appeared to please Josef. "Oh, she suggested that I try to buy him off first. But when I told her that wouldn't be enough to protect you, she agreed."

Mick stared at him. "Who—?"

"Don't remember. Not important."

"Beth would never...."

"She did. And then there was the time that you turned—returned—that vampire friend of yours."

Mick's face darkened. "I told her about that. I told you. Crystal was dying; there was nobody else who could help her."

" _She_ told me," Josef corrected him. He was watching Mick very closely; it was beginning to make Mick nervous. "Beth, I mean. She walked in on you. You, my friend, were too distracted to notice."

"No." Mick shook his head emphatically. "No. She was out of town. I picked her up at the airport the next day." He realized he was glaring. "Quit trying to rewrite the truth, Josef."

"Not. She was at the airport, because I took her there two hours before her flight was due to arrive."

"Josef…." Mick found himself lost for words. He knew Josef would not lie about such a thing. But if Beth had known…. Mick would certainly have heard about it, and many times more than once. He spread his hands, expressing disbelief despite himself. "I would have smelled you on her."

"Whoa." Josef tipped back on his heels. "I _never—_ "

"From sitting on the upholstery of your car, or you hugged her, right?"

"Mick."

Grinding his teeth together, Mick did not care whether he sounded an idiot. "She never said anything."

His confusion and dismay must have been painfully obvious, for Josef abruptly turned away and stared out at the mountains. "That's because I convinced her not to." With a heavy sigh, he went on, "She showed up on my doorstep, in floods of tears. She came to me. For comfort."

"Josef—" 

Mick's thoughts and memories tumbled over each other as he struggled to recall the specifics of that day—and the following one. Crystal had been one of the first to take the cure when Kostan Industries began to market it. A hundred and fifty years a vampire, she had wanted a taste of mortality, a taste of living. Only, during her brief stint as a mortal, she developed a particularly swift-growing and lethal cancer—one that would have killed her before her natural reversion. She had stumbled upon Mick when she had come to demand help from Kostan Industries. Their relationship constituted little more than a fling in the late '80s; it had taken her days to convince him that she truly had no one else she could turn to. Her sire was dead, and like many vampires she had no close friends. 

Still Mick had turned her down. But she had wept, and she had pleaded. And finally, knowing that another vampire, if she hired one, might take advantage of her, he had conceded—with the understanding that she would never contact him again. He had taken her life and then restored it with his blood. Once the transformation was complete, he had assuaged her hunger with provisions from the Red Cross. And then she had gone, and she had kept her word. The next day he had collected Beth at the airport—and her face had shone with genuine welcome, with love, at sight of him; he would have known if she had been pretending.

"How can I believe you?" Mick demanded. "If she'd been angry, I would've known. Why would you make that up?"

"Because I wouldn't. And you know it." Matter-of-factly Josef said, "She saw Crystal feeding from your wrist; I don't know if I could have talked her down if she'd seen you with your fangs in her neck."

"She would never have seen that; she couldn't have seen that." Mick's anger, fueled by long-forgotten guilt, curdled inside him. "I never mentioned it to you," he said flatly, "but I told Beth. I used a knife. Drained Crystal's blood into a plastic bag." He could hear the plaintiveness in his own voice when he asked, "She spent the night with you?"

Josef's answering smile was smug.

Mick calmed himself with an effort; he was being baited, and he had fallen right into Josef's trap. He spoke very softly. "I told her what happened, what I had done; I told her on the way home from the airport. She understood."

"She was ready to leave you," Josef informed him. "Her heart was broken."

Mick closed his eyes. If Josef was speaking the truth.... He was sickened at the thought of what Beth had gone through. He had sworn never to hurt her—but he had; of course he had. With a million unthinking slights, an occasionally angry tone, an unintended failure of understanding, a moment of obliviousness. He had tried to make up for all of those, and believed that in the balance he had. Now to learn this, a hurt far above all the others; and he had never even known. Mick rubbed hard at his eyes with the knuckles of both hands. Beth had asked Josef to kill to protect him? She had gone to Josef when she thought Mick had betrayed her? Self-disgust thick in his voice, Mick said, "What did you say to her?"

Josef's cheeks dimpled with amused affection. "You're making this way too easy." He held up a hand as Mick took a sharp step toward him. "I told her that you loved her. More than your own life. That you _worshipped_ her. And that you would _never_ cheat on her. Despite all that—and I can be very convincing—it took a while, believe me. But I managed to persuade her that there was undoubtedly a _very_ good reason for what she had seen. And that you would tell her what had happened and why. Probably the very next day." His grin widened. "And I told her that if you didn't, I would take it out of your hide."

"'Out of my hide.'" Mick gave him a calculating and not altogether friendly look. "That's dated, even for you." With the quiet stealth of the predator he was, he moved closer. "You mentioned comfort."

Unintimidated, Josef stood his ground.

Mick bared his teeth, aware that his vampire fangs had manifested. "Milk or dark?"

Josef leaned in conspiratorially. "Dark. It was a rough night." He gracefully stepped away from Mick, and his oppressive looming. He wandered back to the window. The snow on the surface of the mountains was taking on a delicately pale blush, while bruised purples clung to the valley folds.

Mick's voice was reflective as he came alongside him. "She took you a box of very expensive chocolate the next time we visited. And she would never say why. And neither would you."

"You stopped asking after a while."

Mick made a mildly rude sound. "For all that you always wanted me with you, cutting a swath through the human bloodstock, you took to Beth quickly enough. If I'd trusted her—or you—less, I might have wondered if there was something going on." Yet, more disturbed than he liked to admit, he added, "She really asked you to murder someone?"

"No, of course not. She asked me to protect you. But she knew what I was going to do. I made sure that she understood."

"Why didn't you ever tell me?"

Josef's perfectly cut suit jacket fell smoothly around his shoulders as he shrugged. "Because you didn't need to know about the paparazzo. And you didn't need to know that she had doubted you." He shrugged again. "And maybe because she needed someone—other than you—who she could trust. Crazily enough, that someone turned out to be me."

Mick recognized Josef's sour tone for the sham that it was. "You could have declined the honor."

There was a flash of something in Josef's eyes—dread? regret?—that made Mick frown. "No," Josef said, turning away again. "I couldn't." He stopped beside his desk and began to poke at the few items littering its surface.

Dawn began to paint the face of the mountains with burnished golds and anemone pinks. Above the frosty, sherbet-hued peaks and the churning clouds forming around their slopes, the sky was gradually lightening into a deeply layered blue. Mick caught his lower lip between his teeth and lightly tugged at it, his thoughts in turmoil. Josef remained quiet, allowing the moment to stretch. The building around them was now silent. The cleaning crew must have cleared out. "These reminiscences of yours," Mick said at last, "they're just a setup, aren't they? You're telling me in your usual oblique way that you and Beth had secrets." Mick studied his friend's profile intently. "Right?"

Josef nodded. "A few," he agreed soberly.

Mick swallowed hard, because suddenly he understood all too well. Josef was preparing him for something more. Another secret. One which, from Josef's expression and posture, Mick was sure to like even less. He could spend a long time imagining all manner of unpleasant possibilities, but short of exposing a decades-long affair with his wife—something Mick would never believe—what really could Josef say that could be so awful? Nevertheless his expression was grave when he said, "What else?"

Josef sighed and gave Mick a long, level look. Then he shifted on the heels of his smart and very expensive shoes and went to a small cabinet, part, Mick saw, of his elaborate drinks cupboard. A wave of chilled air informed him that it was some sort of refrigeration unit. Josef, head slightly bent and regarding Mick from under his brows, turned back toward him, holding an ornately carved casket, the size of a large shoe box. Mick's nostrils flared. There was something, the scent of which—so minute, almost imagined—he should not have been able to register. "Josef!" he exclaimed in a strained whisper.

His friend balanced the small chest on his spread left hand and raised the lid with his right. Inside, a container made of cut crystal lay upon a bed of midnight blue velvet. "Don't hit me until after you've learned everything."

"What did you do?" Mick asked darkly.

"There's a letter, too," Josef said, speaking rapidly but with perfect clarity, as though he had rehearsed these few words a thousand times or more.

Mick took the casket slowly—his fingers were shaking—and stared through suddenly blurred eyes at the beautifully carved vessel, the precious contents of which glowed deepest red. Even sealed, he scented Beth's blood; knew—would always know—that unique tang anywhere. He set the casket down on a nearby table and lifted the crystal from its velvet folds. He raised it and breathed deeply. _Beth._ He turned hollow eyes on Josef, who had the grace to flinch.

"You should...probably read the letter, Mick." This was undoubtedly rehearsed too, but unsteady for all of that. "It's in the lid."

With great care, Mick set the crystal container back upon its velvet cushion. He found the letter tucked inside a satin pocket attached to the inside of the lid. It was folded in half, and encircled with a ribbon that matched the blue of the velvet. A gentle twitch easily released it. The muscles in Mick's tightly clamped jaws worked hard as he let the ribbon fall to the floor and slowly unfolded the sheet of paper.

"She insisted on paper," Josef muttered, as though still miffed at having lost an argument, and quietly walked to the wall beside the deep casement of the window, his back pointedly turned toward Mick. "I told her she should record it."

Mick could no longer hear his voice for the thundering in his ears. He stared down at the paper in his hand, and at first glance the words were merely markings inked onto a flat surface, neither individually nor together making any sense. As symbols, they spoke of Beth, of her manner of writing, her characteristic turn of each letter, the formation of each word. He blinked hard and the symbols at last became recognizable, became words.

_My darling Mick,_

_Don't blame Josef. This was my idea. And, please, don't be angry. If you're reading this, he's worried about you. He's afraid that you've been mourning me too long._

Frowning, Mick glanced across the room. Josef stood very straight, his hands clasped together behind his back.

_I tried to put myself in your place and imagine what it would be like to get a letter from you, like this. I believe, for me, it would be a good thing. So I hope it won't upset you, getting one from me. I love you so much, I can't bear the thought of hurting you._

Squeezing his eyes tightly shut, Mick tilted his head back. Lips pinched together, he fought to clear his vision. It took a moment before he could see well enough to continue.

_I told Josef that if this day came—if we needed a sort of 'post-mortem intervention'—that you should have one last drink of me. He refused. He refused a thousand times, Mick, so you really shouldn't be mad at him. You know me, though, with my uncanny, non-vampire power of persuasion. Even Josef can be persuaded—at least where you're concerned._

A faint smile twitched across Mick's lips. Beth had almost always been able to coax Josef to her whims; and from what Josef—and now Beth—had told him today, her influence over him had been nearly as great as Mick's own.

_He says he won't read this, that it'll be sealed away with my blood. If the time comes when he's sure that you're healing, he'll destroy them both, and you'll never need to know. Stupid of me to even mention that, I guess. I'm blaming it on the drugs. But if you find out that he's lied about reading my letter, you have my permission to kick his butt, okay?_

Mick smiled, wiping his cheeks.

_He loves you—and, I think, not just in a guy-bonding kind of way. Don't be shocked. Although knowing you, and even with all your old-fashioned ways, you're probably not. You're the most important person in his life. And I know you love him. Maybe not that way. But even if you do, my dearest Mick, it's still love. Okay, it really has to be the drugs. I've never mentioned this before and maybe I shouldn't say anything now. But I've watched you both for nearly forty years, and I think there's something there between you; something that you've both pretended to ignore. Don't worry. It's never, ever threatened me. And that's because I know you, Mick St. John. You are the most faithful and truest person in the world, maybe in the universe._

He could not repress a small, pained laugh. "Beth," he said hoarsely. "Oh, Beth."

_So I'm dead (kind of weird actually writing that down). We both know I wasn't built to be immortal. But I never really expected you to stay with me all these years, especially as I've gotten old, and as I've gotten sick. No one could have loved me more or better. And from the first time you saved me, when I was a little girl, to my last breath (which will come soon enough), I've loved you, too. I want you to be happy, Mick. Promise me, Mick, that you will be happy._

_If Josef is right, it's time for you to open your heart again. I'm going to be selfish, though, and ask that you save a tiny piece of it for me. Just so there's somewhere I will always be safe and warm and welcome. Drink me one last time. Make a farewell toast to the woman who loved you so very, very much. And get on with your life._

_Love you so much, Beth_

Mick's lashes, clumped together with moisture, lay cold on his cheeks, as he folded the slip of paper between thumb and fingers. Her face was there before him, young and vibrant, old and tired; but her eyes, the color of cornflowers, had never changed. And they were filled now with such love for him; he could feel her presence as if she were here, beside him. He took a deep, steadying breath. When he looked up, Josef was watching him. He was lit from behind by the brilliance of morning light on the snow-covered mountains, and Mick could just make out his unguarded expression, which spoke of uncertainty and concern.

Josef said, "Are you okay?"

Mick gave him a single, abrupt nod. "Yeah." He set the letter inside the open casket. He waved his fingers at the container of blood. "When did you do this?"

"That Friday you had to go up to San Jose for a deposition, two or three weeks before she died."

"You realize you probably worsened her condition by taking her blood, don't you? Wasted some of what little time she had left?"

"Mick, I tried to…. Yes." He bowed his head slightly. "Yes."

Mick imagined the two of them, Josef resisting, Beth, haggard and weak, relentlessly insisting. It would have been a hard-won battle, for Josef never gave in easily. "But she could be very persuasive," Mick said, the harshness gone from his voice.

"Very."

Mick's gaze returned to the casket, containing all, outside of his mind, that was left of the woman he had loved for over 60 years. He reached in and carefully removed the crystal container, and holding it up to catch the light from the window, studied it thoughtfully. He could feel Josef's concern from here. Mick crossed the few steps to the drinks cupboard. There he found an array of glasses, everything from hurricane to flute. He picked out a small brandy snifter, paused an instant, and took another to match it. With precision, he set them on the counter next to the bottle of Beth's blood.

He took up the bottle, and, gazing into its depths, broke the seal with a quick twist. The fitted stopper slipped out easily; he passed it beneath his nose before holding it to his tongue. _Beth._ He closed his eyes as sense memories washed over him, dizzying in their intensity. Six months since he had held her, a year since he had made love to her. The taste of her was as pure as the first time he had experienced it, in that grungy motel room in the blindingly hot desert. Her blood had saved his life, then, and through the years that had followed, it had kept him whole and contentedly bound to her.

Bringing himself back to the present, Mick took another deep breath. Sure-handedly, he decanted the bottle into the two snifters, finding as the last drop fell into the second glass that he had chosen their size accurately. He licked the rim of the crystal container and set it on the counter. Fitting the glasses between his fingers, he turned and carried them across the room.

At the sight of what he held, Josef's eyes widened. Before he could comment, Mick said, "Thank you." He proffered the second glass. After a brief hesitation, Josef took it.

"For?"

"For being her friend; for looking after her when I couldn't."

Josef gave his head a tiny, astonished shake. "You're sharing?"

"You loved her, too."

Josef blinked and opened his mouth, then looked down and to one side, trying to hide, Mick suspected, his emotion. For all that Josef liked to pretend that he was above it all, Mick knew better. "Yeah, I did," he said gruffly. He accepted the glass and raised it. "To Beth."

Smiling gently, Mick lightly tapped the glasses together. "To Beth." He closed his eyes as he took his first sip, allowing the thick fluid to rest a few seconds in his mouth before swallowing it down. And then she was there, in his heart, in his mind, in a way he had never hoped to have her again. With her blood stirring in his veins, he could, with sudden, almost unbearable clarity, remember the inspiration of her caress, the savory human scent of her, the welcome press of her pulse where their bodies met. And, strangely, as he drank the remains in his glass, he no longer felt the deep-down ache of her loss—only the consoling, abiding warmth of her love. _It's all right._ He wished that he could, somehow, tell her this, that he could put her mind at rest. _I'm all right. I love you. I will always love you._

Mick slowly returned to his surroundings. Josef was regarding him over the rim of his empty snifter, a tiny smear of blood at the corner of his mouth, his expression unreadable. It seemed that Mick caught him watching him all the time these days. Josef loved him; he knew that. And Mick—well, he had always known that there would be more between them, whether that "more" would be years of friendship, or something else: some redefinition of friendship, perhaps. _And I know you love him._

"Mick?" Josef's muted voice brought him out of his thoughts. He had not spoken the words, but Mick heard them anyway: _Are you all right?_

In answer, he bent forward and, with the tip of his tongue, unhurriedly removed the last of Beth's blood from Josef's mouth. "Wouldn't want to waste any," he said huskily.

Despite having known Josef for as long as he had been a vampire—a little longer, in fact—Mick was prepared for any reaction at all, this being completely outside his usual behavior. But had he expected fireworks or even disdain, he was doomed to disappointment. Josef raised a finger and delicately touched his mouth, as though it tingled, and then said with some aplomb, "Of course not." He lifted his eyes to Mick's and holding his gaze curved his finger inside the snifter, meticulously gathering up the sticky fluid. "Here."

A sudden tension rose between them. Mick could turn this into a joke, tell him what Beth had written. But Josef was waiting, utterly serious and composed. Unaware of the intensity of his own expression, Mick took Josef's wrist in his hand and brought the finger to his mouth. He took his time removing Beth's blood with tongue and lips. There was a strange hum in his head as he straightened. "Thanks," he whispered, his lashes shielding his chaotic thoughts as he slowly raised his eyes.

"No problem," Josef replied, his words belied by sudden breathlessness.

The tension between them had increased, not lessened. Yet, Mick believed, only the slightest effort would be required to break it: a grin, the right word, a turning away. Nevertheless, a second passed, and another, and neither of them spoke nor moved. His mouth dry, Mick wondered wildly what it was that he wanted at this moment. And as easily as that, with Josef's wrist still clasped in his fingers, Mick knew. He leaned forward once more and pressed his mouth to Josef's. It was easy, in his own mind, to defend his actions: He was only chasing the last of Beth. If, in the doing, he deepened the kiss, his lips moving with uncomplicated pleasure upon the other vampire's mouth, Mick also told himself he was simply being thorough. And if, as Mick lost himself in the moment, Josef's unique flavor eradicated the vestiges of her, perhaps that had been the point of it all. Mick pulled back a half step, their mouths separating with a soft, intimate sound. His own lips still slightly parted, Mick dazedly sought Josef's reaction.

The silence was impenetrable. There was no expression whatsoever on Josef's face. Then, his voice sounding not quite his own, he murmured archly, "Do you believe everything you read, Mick?"

His words broke Mick's reverie; Mick gave himself a sharp, overall shake. And then he smiled, a lethal, implacable smile. "Are you telling me you read Beth's letter?"

Josef opened his mouth. After a moment, he cleared his throat. "Of...of course not."

Mick crowded closer, though there was already precious little space between them. His lips a scant inch from Josef's ear, he murmured, "Because she said you promised not to." He lowered his voice to its deepest register. "And she gave me permission to kick your butt, if you broke your promise."

Gathering his dignity, Josef retorted, albeit a little unsteadily, "Definitely not, then."

"You wouldn't lie to me, would you, Josef?" Mick drawled dangerously. His eyes never leaving the other vampire's face, he collected the last drops of Beth's blood from his own glass. His finger was a hair's width from his mouth when Josef reached out and seized his wrist. Mick raised a brow, wordlessly daring him to continue.

"Fair's fair," Josef whispered, and slowly and insistently, despite Mick's coiled tension, guided Mick's finger into his own mouth. The sensation of Josef's tongue on him was like lightning striking a grounding rod, sending sudden piercing pleasure shafting straight into Mick's belly. He just managed not to gasp aloud, holding himself very still, his teeth bared, his breath uneven. When at last he was released from that warm, wet haven, Mick wasn't the only one displaying lengthened canines and paled eyes. "So, yeah, I lied," Josef said with something of his usual arrogance. And with vampire abruptness, he clamped a hand behind Mick's head to hold him still, and covered his mouth with his own. Josef, Mick soon discovered, his own fingers threaded in Josef's hair as he responded with desperate need, wanted this every bit as much as he did. And, so it was with a hint of triumph that, a moment or two later, when they paused just long enough to catch their breath, Mick said, with a kind of loving menace, "Your ass is mine, Josef."

Eyes sparking brilliantly, Josef only grinned.

* * *

The Peak was swathed in creamy clouds, the morning's sun long hidden behind the advent of a gathering storm. In the pale light of Josef's executive suite, Mick half lay, half slouched on the plushly thick carpet, his shoulders and head propped up on the long, solidly built leather sofa that paralleled the north wall. Josef was sprawled on the floor on his back, his head cushioned by Mick's hip.

"That," Josef pronounced, "was intense." When Mick's only response was to continue sleepily raking his fingers through Josef's hair, Josef twisted his head round and, fixing Mick with a steely gaze, said imperiously, "I'll want to do that again."

"More than the four times we've already done it?" Mick asked dryly.

"Many more times." In his best boardroom voice, Josef persisted, "How's your next decade look?"

Mick laughed. "Give it a day or two, Josef," he suggested. "You'll probably reconsider."

"I've been thinking about it all morning."

"You mean, when we haven't been...?"

"Unlike you, I can think and do at the same time."

"Good for you," Mick said, unimpressed.

"So I think we should give it a try."

Mick idly ran a finger along the curve of Josef's jaw. "You and me?"

"Yes."

"Yeah, well, I prefer not to share," Mick said without emphasis, but his ironic expression conveyed exactly what he was thinking.

"Done."

Mick could not contain a little snort of disbelief. "Josef. Josef. I know you."

"You think you do. If you really did, you'd have been expecting this long ago."

"Would I?"

Josef reached up and brushed Mick's cheek with his fingertips. Mick turned his head into the caress, and then applied a light kiss to his palm. "And you, usually so observant," Josef murmured.

"You're talking about when you turned me? I—okay, I felt that, too."

"You persist in calling it that. I only hastened your reversion. And while what I did to you then certainly...," he spun a finger in the air as he searched for the right phrase, "added some layers, it started longer ago than that."

"How far back could it have gone? I met you two months before Coraline and I got married."

"About that far."

"Uh huh." Mick didn't try to conceal his skepticism.

"I mean it. If I'd met you before Coraline, I really would be your sire."

Mick lifted his brows meaningfully. "You'd have had an uphill battle in 1952. This...kind of relationship would not have been on my radar then."

"Always liked a challenge," Josef said smoothly.

"You're saying you had the hots for me in 1952?"

Josef groaned. "I would describe it differently, you prole. But, yes."

"'Yes,'" Mick echoed, more than a little taken aback. "Really?"

"That's a rhetorical 'really,'" Josef stated with some disdain.

Mick took Josef's chin between thumb and fingers and forced him to meet his eyes. "We're talking almost a hundred years. Why now? Because of Beth's letter?"

"Who kissed who?"

"Whom."

"That's right. You're a writer now. Actually," Josef said, in his most off-hand manner, "she's the one who mentioned it to me first."

Mick coughed a laugh. "She—" He let his shoulders slump in defeat, having taken Josef's bait yet again. "What exactly is Beth supposed to have _mentioned_ to _you_?"

"God, I knew this would be tedious. Us," he said comprehensively. "You and me."

"Friends, sure. We've been friends since I met you."

"She sensed there was more than that. Hey!" This, as Mick struggled to sit upright, almost dislodging the other vampire from his lap. "No, you're right. It's been too many hours since I ate." He grinned toothily at Mick and rose to a crouch, then hopped to his feet. He held out a hand. "You're pretty athletic, aren't you? That was nice, the way you put all that muscle to use. I'll need to keep you well nourished."

Mick allowed himself to be helped up. "If you're trying to sidetrack me, remember what I used to do for a living."

"Wouldn't think of it. You were a dog with a bone even before you put your hand to private investigation." Josef strode across the room to the drinks cupboard, as comfortable unclothed as he was in his designer suits. He fetched two bottles out of the refrigeration unit, removed the caps, and collected clean glasses. As he turned round, he found Mick pulling on his trousers. "Truly a product of your formative years," he remarked sadly.

Mick finished fastening his waistband and accepted the bottle and glass. "Some things leave their mark," he agreed. He filled the glass and drank it down in one long pull. "You're telling me that you and my wife discussed this, you and me sleeping together?"

"No. But don't let that reassure you. She didn't, in so many words, tell me to kill that sad bastard, either." Josef emptied his glass and stood a moment with his eyes closed. "Hm. Not bad for chilled."

"Josef...."

"Right." He refilled his glass and set it on the counter, then went over to pick up his clothing. "There was a reason Beth made such a good investigator herself. She was remarkably observant."

Mick made a face. "What was there to observe?" he said, retrieving his own shirt. "We never...."

"She called it love," Josef said. "Said she'd never seen two men so close...outside of a sexual relationship."

"Well, we do—you know—love each other. I'll admit it, even if you won't. She said that?" Mick stood with his shirt in his hands, as if he had forgotten what it was for. Josef used a finger to methodically draw a cross over his heart. "But when? When did she say that? And why would she say something like that to _you_ , anyway?"

Tucking his hem into his waistband, Josef gave Mick a look of unmistakable dislike. "I experienced the Inquisition firsthand, you know. I'm still not fond of being interrogated."

"You'll like it less when I break out the thumbscrews," Mick assured him.

Unexpectedly, Josef beamed at him. "At least I don't have to worry about you going all girlie on me, do I?"

"You haven't proposed yet," Mick countered shortly. "Answer the question."

Collecting the bottle and filled glass, Josef settled on the sofa. "The first time, believe it or not, was fairly early on." He sipped with a connoisseur's appreciation. "You were off somewhere on a case, and you had me playing protector."

"And what? You took her to lunch and she said she knew you were in love with me?" Mick sat on the opposite end of the sofa, one leg crossed over the other.

" _We_ were in love with _each other_ , Mick. 'Two men so close...'?"

"Yeah, right," Mick sighed. "I forgot."

"She wanted to know why I had re-turned you...."

"She knew―"

"...when I could have hired a lot of vampire muscle to save her instead."

"There wasn't time."

"Of course there was," Josef said dismissively. "She had a valid point. I explained that it wasn't just about saving her; it was about _you_ saving her."

Mick was briefly silenced by this. "Okay," he said at last. "Kind of surprised you got that. But, yeah, that was.... Yeah."

"It made her feel guilty."

"I was going to turn back eventually, anyway."

"But she knew how much you had wanted to be mortal. You gave it up for her. Most girls just get an engagement ring."

Mick let his frustration show. "Ancient history. What exactly did that have to do with you and me? What possible conclusions could she have—?"

Josef rested his head against the thickly padded sofa back, the bottle and glass held loosely between his fingers. "Based on what you had told her about you and Coraline, she understood that the process of turning someone also sort of whammies both the turner and the turnee."

"That," Mick said with reluctant agreement, "is unfortunately accurate." He made a helpless gesture, unintentionally appealing. "But she really thought that you and I might...?"

"No. No. She trusted you, Mick. She even trusted me, in her own way. But she was aware that our friendship had the potential to be more than platonic."

Mick searched Josef's face. "Potential's a long way from you and me going to bed together. You said that was the first time she brought it up. Something else must have decided her later."

Josef took to his feet again and strode toward the window. "Me. You know, 'despite trusting me. In her own way.'"

"You...said something?"

"No," Josef said ponderously. "Something much grander than mere words."

"The cure," Mick said on a note of comprehension. "You financed the research into developing the cure."

"In one." Josef was limned by grey light from the window, model perfect despite his rumpled clothing. The clouds over the Peak were moving downward, drifting over the foothills and veiling them with squalls of snow as they came. It was as if the mountains no longer existed.

"Which," Mick dragged the word out for emphasis, "you did for me, risking the wrath of the entire Vampire Nation, just so I could be mortal."

"Wrath," Josef repeated, with evident pleasure. "I love that word." His gaze took on a faraway look. "Good times. All those attempts to assassinate me and burn down my buildings, while trying to keep the truth away from the mortals. Lots and lots of angry vamps."

Mick could not help but laugh at Josef's self-satisfaction. "The same vamps who later bought the drug as a recreational tool and whined for more. Became quite the 'in' thing, becoming temporary mortals."

"Never expected altruism to turn into a billion-dollar industry," Josef marveled.

"Bet _that_ must have stung," Mick commented. "Still, it paid for your satellite."

"Ah, my satellite. Maybe some day we can visit it. The shuttle service will be online in a couple more years."

"I'll put it on my calendar." Mick let a slow breath out through parted lips. "It also paid for research into Beth's condition."

Josef's whimsical expression faded. "Wish it could have done more."

"It bought her a few good days."

"A few," Josef said, as he walked back to his drink. "You know, last I heard you were the only one the cure didn't work for." He tipped the bottle and emptied the last drops into his glass. "How massively screwed-up is that?"

"Didn't work for Coraline either."

Josef gave him an acute look. "You've seen the ex?"

"Heard from her, yeah. Few months after Beth died. Said she had tried the Kostan Cure, but—nothing. She thought it must be something to do with her very old and very royal bloodline. Which, of course, since she turned me, is mine, too." He eyed Josef curiously. "You know, I've kind of wondered about your background, as well, seeing as how you've added it to mine—Charles. Maybe you've got a royal taint, too."

Josef ignored that. "You never mentioned getting together with her," he said, his tone deceptively mild. "Why not?"

"Because there was no 'getting together,'" Mick replied. "We talked for a while. Got caught up. And then we hung up. It was no more than a phone call."

"She can't have given up on you. That just doesn't sound like the Coraline I used to know," Josef mused ominously.

"I got the impression that something happened to her when she was taken home, you know, by her brother. Honestly, the way she looked that day, I never thought I'd hear from her again."

"Still," Josef muttered, "hard to imagine Coraline changing."

"Yeah?" Mick gestured toward Josef and then back at himself. "Look at us."

" _This_ ," Josef corrected him, "was only a matter of time, Mick."

"Riiiiight,"

"You'll accept it eventually. I meant what I said before."

"Josef," Mick said kindly, loving him very much at that moment. "I bet you can't even spell the word."

"'Marriage?'"

Mick's smile froze. "I—" He let out a little breath. "I was thinking 'exclusive.'" He narrowed his eyes. "You want to _marry_ me?"

Josef shrugged nonchalantly. "And just think how cool that will make me look: _Josef Kostan and his_ ," he drew air quotes with his curled fingers, "' _rough trade husband,' Mick St. John_."

For a moment, Mick could find no words. And then he surged to his feet and stalked across the room to the other vampire. "Two things, Josef—" But before continuing, he took Josef's head between his hands and kissed him, hard.

"Was that the first one?" Josef gasped softly, licking his lips as Mick released him. "That was good."

" _First,_ " Mick said, his voice low and intense, "whatever this is, it is _not_ about making you look cool. Second—" He was interrupted by a disembodied voice calling Josef's name.

"On," Josef commanded. "Yes, Pierce?"

"That storm I warned you about, sir. It's moving faster and more deeply south than was originally forecast. If you wish to return to Los Angeles today, we'll need to leave in the next half hour."

"The car is waiting?"

"Yes, Mr. Kostan."

"We'll be downstairs in five minutes. Off." He turned his head and favored Mick with his most genial smirk. "You can finish buttoning your shirt in the car, if you like." He insinuated a hand under the open placket of Mick's shirt and across his chest. Breathing a little erratically, he let it glide up to Mick's throat.

"I think I can manage that right now," Mick said, pulling away. Though Josef's hand was vampire cool, his touch had left his skin feeling flushed with heat. If he didn't put some distance between them, they would be weathering the storm here. He hurriedly completed dressing, took a last swig of blood, and retrieved the small casket containing Beth's letter. Mick pointed at the empty glass. "Do we—?"

"The evening crew will handle it. Are you ready?"

The casket tucked under his arm, Mick spread his hands.

As the building did not officially open until the following Monday, they passed no one as they made their way to the main doors. Outside the air was distinctly frosty, and large wet flakes swirled in eddies of sudden breezes. Mick filled his lungs with crisp freshness. The temperature was still dropping and there was a lot of snow in the descending clouds. Josef's attendant ushered them to the car, and into its opulent depths. Josef's fleet might run on compost, Mick thought, but his limos were as accommodating and well-appointed as any he had owned in the earlier half of the century. They settled together on the back seat. Josef pressed a button, and the driver pulled away from the curb.

"And second?" Josef prompted, as if they had not been interrupted.

"And second," Mick said with a resigned sigh, "'Husband' and 'rough trade' is a contradiction in terms."

"I'll convince you," Josef said with quiet certainty. He moved nearer. "I'm very good at convincing people." Slowly, almost reverently, he claimed Mick's mouth.

The car had gone the two and a half miles to the interstate and was merging with traffic before they parted. Mick, grateful for the darkened windows, which concealed not only their activities but the fact that they had changed, uncurled his fingers from the back of Josef's head. Bringing his hand to Josef's cheek, he brushed his thumb across the other vampire's lower lip, a little swollen now from Mick's attentions. Josef hazily opened his eyes, murmuring his pleasure. Mick moved in close again. In the instant before their mouths met, he said, very low and inviting, "Well, look on the bright side, Mr. Kostan: you've got forever to try."

End

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2009, revised 2011, minor revisions 2020. Originally written under the pseud Ellis Ward.


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